


put your records on

by NeoVenus22



Category: Blade Trinity
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Takes place six years after the movie.)  Five moments in Zoe's life as she finds her place amongst the Nightstalkers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put your records on

(track 1. 'name of the game'. the crystal method.)

With the vampire population destroyed, the Nightstalkers and their various members at branch locations dwindled due to lack of interest. Only Zoe, Abby, and Hannibal made HQ their permanent residence. Most drivers dropped by for periodic visits and major missions. Mercenary hunters started earning commissions from private organizations. Zoe updated their weapons tech from files upon files of her mother's careful notes, and through email correspondence with a former associate of Hedges's. She, Abby, and Hannibal were so used to the routine that morale remained high, even on the occasions where Blade would show up seeking refuge for a few weeks.

One of the many things Uncle Blade was irked about (besides Zoe's rebellious insistence on calling him Uncle Blade) was the fact that Abby and Hannibal saw no need to restrain Zoe or keep her chained (proverbially - she hoped) to the building. He showed up every few months or so, and asked, "Is she still here? Shouldn't she be in school or something?"

"Whatever," Hannibal said, "she's way fucking smarter than any half-assed public school could make her. She's way fucking smarter than all three of us put together, for that matter."

That was usually the point where Blade would say something snide about Hannibal's less than orthodox approach to hunting and public relations. For all he complained, though, Blade never took any action or flaunted any authority to get Zoe off the team. She knew he valued her advice when it came to shiny new weapons, not to mention the fact she kept him supplied in precious serum.

Blade expected Zoe to be filled with righteous anger. Zoe never had the heart to tell him she was truly fine. She used that whole episode six years prior as a well of strength from which to draw. Dracula himself had slaughtered her mother. Zoe had been kidnapped and offered immortality by the father of the vampire race. She'd turned him down without hesitation, had told him with the pure clarity of youth that she was going to die and go to Heaven and he was just going to die.

They all had things that drove them. It wasn't just the nobility of purging the earth of scum straight from the pages of a horror novel. It wasn't even the cheap pride of a job well done. For all of them, the fight was personal, and it made them good at what they did. Hannibal had guilt. Abby had sadness. Zoe had faith. It made everything much easier to take. One way or another, they'd all been chosen to be on this path. Zoe felt good about that.

* * *

(track 9. 'dance commander'. electric six.)

"Good evening, everyone, my name is Zoe and I'll be your pilot. The temperature outside is a pleasant 62 degrees, with only a five percent chance of rain. Excellent conditions for dismemberment of the unholy. The institution would like me to remind you to please buckle up for safety. Thank you for flying Monster-Stabbing Airlines, I hope you enjoy your trip."

Nestled over in shotgun, seatbelt blatantly undone, Blade stared her down. So long as that sword stayed sheathed, she didn't give a damn how mean his face was. Zoe blinked at him innocently. "What's the matter, Uncle Blade? Too much?"

Blade turned his death glare to the passengers in the backseat. Abby was making some last-minute changes to her playlist, ignoring them all, and Hannibal was futzing with his pistol, humming 'Ride of the Valkyries' to himself. "She's not old enough," Blade snapped.

"You say that every time, Dad," Hannibal said dismissively, not even looking up from his poison-tipped bullets. "Look, I know you're an old fart and everything, but Zoe knows more about demon-killing than anyone else her age." He at last glanced up and tossed a smirk in her direction. "The dismemberment was a nice touch, by the way."

"Thanks, Hannah," she said gamely. "I learned from the best."

If Zoe could see Blade's eyes beneath the pitch shades, they probably would have been rolling. The only Nightstalkers he liked were Abby and Caulder; Caulder because had no sense of humor to speak of, and Abby because she was smart enough to hide it when Blade dropped in on them. Or else because her name was Whistler. It didn't matter anyway; Zoe wasn't looking to be Blade's best friend forever. In this business, a sense of humor probably helped you from going insane. Or contributed further to your insanity. It was a fine line.

"Seriously, though, I wasn't kidding about the seatbelts," she addressed the team sternly. "Everybody buckle your ass up, or this car isn't going anywhere. I've only got a learner's permit."

* * *

(track 17. 'let the poison spill from your throat'. the faint.)

The boy had to yell to be even remotely heard over the music. Zoe felt an odd comfort in the pounding of the bass, steady as a heartbeat, vibrating in concerto with her own blood. This was why Abby never left home without her iPod. It was a good reminder of being alive.

The boy was called Robbie or Richie, something stupid like that. She acknowledged that with Blade and Hannibal around, she was slightly biased. "So," he shouted, "where do you go to school?"

Zoe shook her head. "Homeschooled."

"You're not one of those freak nerds are you?"

How nerdy was researching antidotes for fang venom? Having a stash of anesthetics on supply so you could sew up your best friends on a regular basis? "Depends on your definition of freak," she yelled.

Richie or Robbie took this comment in stride with admirable focus that lead her to believe he hadn't really been listening to her answer in the first place. "You wanna dance?"

Zoe was no longer paying attention. She'd spotted Hannibal by the door, looking with equal parts confusion and distaste at all the short people, and then waving her over. "I have to go," she said.

Robbie or Richie followed her gaze to Hannibal, with his spiked hair, dark beard, and wifebeater tight to the point it was practically obscene. "That your dad?"

Zoe tried not to laugh; Hannibal was going to be so pissed. "Life partner," she called back at Rob-Rich. For a fleeting second, she considered glancing back to watch his features melt, but he was out of her mind the second the cool air from the open door hit her. "What's up, Hannah?"

"Abs found out the address of the bad guys' oh-so-secret lair. We're doing the raid a bit earlier than scheduled. We need you to run interference. Who's the sad puppy, heartbreaker?"

"What?"

Hannibal nodded back at Rich-Rob, as if the impending raid of a demon lair wasn't half as important as Zoe's love life. "Black t-shirt kid is staring after you. You didn't promise him your virtue, did you? You didn't sign over your most precious flower?"

"Oh, bite me."

"Interestingly enough, once upon a time, I might've taken you up on that."

Zoe gave him a dose of her most exasperated face, but secretly, she was glad he could joke about that with her. Hannibal had always taken his ex-vampire status with a grain of salt, but he'd never brought it up around her because of the whole Danica-using-her-as-bait thing. Zoe wasn't holding a grudge, she'd always known it would never come to the bite. But for all that he was Mr. Bounce-back, Hannibal had just never discussed it.

Although she recognized this as a turning point of sorts, she wasn't about to make a big deal out of it. "He's just some guy," she said of Rob-Rich, dismissively. She reached up and kissed Hannibal's cheek, adding, "He thinks you're my dad."

"Ew!" said Hannibal, punctuated by the slamming of the heavy metal emergency exit door, canceling the club noise. "Like I'm that old."

* * *

(track 23. 'in case we die (parts 1-4)'. architecture in helsinki.)

Hannibal poked his head in cheerfully while Zoe was reading. "Hey heartbreaker, feel like getting out of the institution for a little while?"

Zoe held her place with her finger. "I'm not on the rotation this week."

"I know. This isn't a mission. Well, unless you count burgers and fries a mission."

"Even in your line of work, you still eat red meat?" she asked idly.

Hannibal grinned. "As bloody as possible."

Zoe shook her head. "Not as funny as you think."

Hannibal led them out back to a battered '60s VW bug, color indistinguishable beneath all the rust. Never a field car, it could probably do zero to sixty in about four days. Abby was already behind the wheel. "Am I being spirited away?" Zoe asked. There was the tiniest flutter of panic in her chest, but the two of them had always been exceptionally good to her. They hadn't really known how to deal with a kid, so they'd treated her like an adult from day one. Hannibal had always said she'd seen too much and didn't deserve rugrat blinders. They talked to her frankly, weren't in the business of sugar-coating.

"What's with the cavalry?" Zoe asked as casually as she could muster. Abby pulled slowly onto the road.

"We wanted to talk," Abby said uncertainly, a twisted change of pace. Abigail Whistler had always been the most focused person Zoe knew. Zoe envied her that, herself usually split between four or five tasks or interests at once. Zoe waited for the other leather boot to fall. "How do you feel about college?"

"They've got a college for nightstalking now?"

"You should see what you have to do for your thesis," Hannibal contributed.

"King," Abby said sharply. "Zoe, we're just thinking that maybe we pushed you unfairly into this business. Maybe Blade is right, maybe you're too young, maybe you should get a chance to lead a real life first..."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "How old were you when you strapped on the crossbow, Abby? It's sweet that you guys care, but A, no college would take me since I have no formal schooling, and B, this is what I want to do. The college of life, if you will."

"College of life," echoed Hannibal. "She sounds like this teacher I used to have senior year..."

"If you're sure," Abby said, but she said it in a way that Zoe recognized she was quite satisfied with the answer and wasn't going to press it.

"Please. You guys need me."

To prove her point, a scaly red hell beast was working its way towards devouring the drive-thru girl through the window. "Oh, fuck," said Hannibal, as Abby wrenched the wheel to one side and pulled to a screechy stop. "In the middle of the... early evening..."

"Man the wheel," Abby commanded, piling out of the car. "We're gonna need a getaway."

"Uh, guys?" said Zoe, although she was already obediently clamoring into the front seat. "Are you really prepared to deal with this?"

"What, you think I wander around without heavy artillery shoved in my asscrack?" Hannibal said.

"There are so many things I could say to that..."

"No time. Keep this rusty engine running." Hannibal slapped the hood of the car, and fired a shot into the armored back of the beast. Zoe shrugged and tensed her fingers on the steering wheel.

* * *

(track 30. 'harder, better, faster, stronger'. daft punk.)

"Six years, and he still wants to tear me limb from limb," said Hannibal. "How do you get a ruthless killing machine to warm to you, anyway?" Zoe didn't have an answer to that, really, so she just poured antiseptic on her cloth and slapped it on the gaping hole in his back. "OW! Donkey fuck almighty!"

"Can it, you big baby," said Abigail. She was perched on the end of the gurney, examining the tracks of blood set deeply in her palms.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't just get torn to fuck by the legions of the undead."

"Yeah, it's called 'ducking.'"

"I wouldn't've had to duck if Blade had been watching my back! I swear to fuck, that bastard _let_ that horned motherfucker gore me." Hannibal flinched dramatically. "Fuck, Zoe, that stuff's eroding away my bones! What are you gonna do for an encore, douse me in lighter fluid?"

"Thinking about it," said Zoe. "Now hold still before I sew 'Blade rules' onto your back."

Abby smirked. "That might make him like you."

"More like, 'Elvira was here and Blade didn't do a fucking thing about it.'"

"You know," Zoe offered thoughtfully, "he'd probably like you better if you weren't in the infirmary every six minutes. You're always getting stabbed, or shot, or splattered with poisonous drool..."

Blade picked this as the perfect opportunity to come in and watch the proceedings. "You need to learn to duck, fuckhead."

"Wasn't that what I said?" said Abby.

Hannibal sneered. "Yes, thank you. Stellar advice. I'll be sure to jot that down in my journal."

"Damn lucky for you the girl's got a good eye for patching you up." It was a little hard not to preen at this comment. Still, Blade seemed altogether unimpressed with the Nightstalkers as he strode from the room, and could be heard saying, "Fucking kids."

"Yeah, we know, we know, get off your fucking lawn," muttered Hannibal mutinously.

Zoe giggled, but her stitching hand remained steady. It always did.


End file.
